


The Path to Victory

by curlynerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bickering, Dean Winchester Wears Shorts, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlynerd/pseuds/curlynerd
Summary: When it comes to winning petty arguments, there is no right or wrong.Or, how Dean used his tiny jean shorts to win a fight against Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	The Path to Victory

Let it be known that Castiel Winchester was a freakin’ idiot.

Stubborn too.

So stubborn that he couldn’t even admit when he was wrong. Too stupid to even know how wrong he was!

Dean scowled darkly at the book he was reading. Pretending to read. No, dammit, he was reading it! He was researching this damn case and absolutely _not_ sulking about his husband and his dumb opinions and his bullheaded refusal to man up and apologize. Because _Dean_ definitely wasn’t the one who needed to apologize here.

“Dean, I swear to God if you sigh one more time I’m throwing this book at you,” Sam grumbled without even glancing up from his own research. He looked thoroughly over Dean’s not-sulking and not-guilt over an argument where he was _not_ wrong.

Dean flipped his book closed with as much malcontent as he could muster and stood up. “I need a break,” he declared to the room at large, and very pointedly ignored Sam’s annoyed “ _I_ need a break…” response. Dean marched, no, _walked_ \--calmly and confidently walked because he wasn’t pissed off, he was just _annoyed_ and it _wasn’t a big deal_ \--to the bedroom he and Cas shared.

He made a beeline for his dresser and snatched the keys off the top. He itched to do something, to get up and move. Maybe he’d take Baby for a drive. Maybe go to that new bakery the next town over, buy himself a pie. As a treat. And he’d get one of those bear claws bigger than your head that Cas loved so much.

And then he’d lord it over him and refuse to share until Cas apologized.

Yeah, that was why he wanted to get it. _Not_ as an apology. Because Dean had nothing to apologize for! He was right, Cas was wrong, end of story.

Dean nodded to himself, but even he knew he was full of bullshit. No, Cas would sense weakness there. Feeding his loved ones was, like, page one of the Dean Winchester Feels Guilty playbook.

Instead his gaze slid down his dresser to the very bottom drawer. Here he and Cas kept their junk clothes. Grease-stained jeans for working on the car, dingy flannels for digging new plots for Cas’ ever-expanding garden, and of course....the shorts.

A devious smirk twitched at Dean’s lips. 

Well. Now _there_ was an idea… 

\---

“Baby’s due for a good cleaning,” Dean declared as he walked, no, _marched_ \--cheerfully and confidently marched because he was feeling pretty damn good about his plan--down the hallway toward the kitchen. If anyone asked, he was telling this to Sam, because he was on speaking terms with Sam, but he didn’t even bother poking his head into the library to make sure Sam heard him.

Nope, he was headed for the kitchen, where Cas was almost certainly still hiding after stomping off from their argument, sulking over his own book of lore and probably a third cup of coffee.

Sure enough, there he was at the table. And sure enough, the pot of coffee Dean had made barely an hour ago was empty. Dean scowled at it, feeling irrationally annoyed that Cas hadn’t made a replacement pot even though Dean didn’t even _want_ any right now.

He turned his glare onto Cas himself just in time to see Cas look up. He had on a dark scowl of his own, but it immediately dropped into surprise when he saw what Dean was wearing.

Dean smirked and leaned against the doorframe, taking care to jut his hip out juuuust enough to draw attention to the tiny cuttoffs hugging his thighs. Not that he needed to. It was impossible not to attract stares when he looked _this_ good.

Sure enough, Cas’ lips parted as his eyes traveled first down, then back up the almost completely exposed expanse of Dean’s legs. 

When Cas finally made eye contact again, Dean silently raised one eyebrow, daring him to speak.

At that moment, Cas realized exactly what game Dean was playing, and stubbornly turned his eyes back to his book, scowling even darker than before, though the effect was ruined by the blush on his cheeks, growing redder and brighter with each passing second.

Dean breathed a laugh and sauntered his way into the kitchen. He flicked another glance to Cas right before he started rummaging around, pulling open drawers and searching through shelves. “Can never find a bucket when you need it,” he muttered ‘to himself,’ even though there definitely weren’t any in the kitchen. And, purely by _coincidence_ , every single place he checked was low enough that he needed to bend over to see. And, again purely by _coincidence_ , every time he bent over, he was angled so his back was facing Cas, highlighting just how little his shorts were really covering. 

Dean’s smirk turned into a toothy grin when he heard Cas sigh in frustration and annoyance. He turned around. Sure enough, Cas hastily jerked his gaze away from him and back down to his book. The flush on his face was darker than ever. But still he remained steadfastly silent.

Time to bring out the big guns.

Dean circled around to the front of the kitchen island. Even though there _definitely_ weren’t any buckets in the open steel shelves, he made an exaggerated show of bending over to check, ass high in the air and just a scant few feet away from where Cas was seated.

“I _know_ there’s one here somewhere,” Dean muttered, swaying his hips ever so slightly.

“Dean…” Cas growled, and just like that, Dean knew he had won.

“Hmm?” Dean took his sweet time straightening up and turning around, a triumphant grin stretched ear to ear. “Thought you weren’t speaking to me, Sunshine.”

And before Dean knew what hit him, Cas grabbed him by the arm and hauled him down onto his lap. Dean laughed in victory as he clung to the table with one hand to balance on the tiny stool. Cas planted a hand firmly on his ass to keep him in place.

“You are infuriating, you know that?” Cas’ bright blue eyes flared with equal parts exasperation and desire, making Dean’s heart race.

Dean leaned in close. “Yeah, but you love it,” he hummed, letting his eyes fall to Cas’ mouth. He licked his lips but resisted the urge to kiss him yet. Dean wouldn’t have truly won until he broke Cas’ resolve entirely.

“I do,” Cas sighed in weary defeat, pulling another laugh from Dean as he slid off Cas’ lap and stood up.

Dean dragged his fingers through Cas’ hair and gently pulled him to stand as well. “So whaddya say? Admit I was right, and you can help me take them off.”

Cas grabbed Dean by the waist and hauled him against his chest, one hand on the back of his head and the other on his ass, and kissed him soundly. Dean was dizzy by the time they finally came up for air. “You’re right,” Cas growled against his lips, “I’m wrong. But you’re keeping those damn shorts _on_.”

And before Dean could make a snappy comeback, Cas dragged him toward their bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on tumblr](https://curlynerd.tumblr.com/) for ficlets, Destiel thoughts, and to read my fics before I post them here.


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